


Just A Little Hocus Pocus

by Xirayn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Inspired by Hocus Pocus (1993), M/M, Not Beta Read, references to violence and murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xirayn/pseuds/Xirayn
Summary: A grin curls across Lance's face. "Maybe we should take you to the Galra house," he says, voice full of challenge and confidence as if Keith believed in ghosts. "Show you an actual good time."Pidge's face lit up as Hunk's fell."Ooo. Cobwebs,” Keith drawls. “Terrifying."---During Keith's first Halloween in Salem, Massachusetts, he lights a candle that resurrects some evil witches then steals their book. The talking cat said he would be safe in the cemetery, though.He also gets a boyfriend, though, so the night isn't all bad.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Just A Little Hocus Pocus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Discord Server Halloween storytime and presented almost completely unedited.

Keith is learning that the only thing he hates more than Salem, Massachusetts is Salem, Massachusetts on Halloween. Everyone is way too into it and speaking of ghosts and witches, particularly the Galras, like they are real. The long-dead family's decrepit house had even been turned into a museum. Keith swore a day didn't pass where people didn't bemoan the fact it was closed for 'the first Halloween in a hundred years'.

Yet when he had mentioned aliens in class he got a look somewhere between amusement and pity from Mr. Smythe and laughs from the other students.

Then Griffin had been an ass, suggesting that maybe Keith's parents had been abducted by aliens, and Keith had punched him, which obviously got him suspended. Somehow that ended up with him at a Halloween party because Shiro 'wasn't going to leave him home alone' even though he was seventeen and had spent plenty of time home alone before his father had died.

"Hey, you're the alien kid."

Keith looks over at the boy dressed in all black with a cape, mask, and some sort of hat. His mask covers the top half of his face, but Keith would recognize that jawline and lopsided grin anywhere. He eyes the rapier at Lance's side and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you a pirate?" he asks, his tone trying to convey how much he wanted to be left alone.

The hint is either missed or ignored.

"Uh, no, I'm Zorro?"

Keith blinks.

"The Mask of Zorro? Antonio Banderas? You know, fwt fwt fwt." Lance mimes slashing a 'Z' into the air.

Keith shrugs. He knows what Lance is talking about, at least vaguely. Messing with him is the most interesting thing happening at this party at the moment, though.

"Fine. So what are you supposed to be?" Lance's eyes sweep over Keith's ripped jeans, baggy green cardigan, and worn t-shirt.

"Kurt Cobain." Everything had come from Keith’s closet, of course, and wasn't much different from his regular style. Shiro had almost called him on it but seemed to decide that just getting Keith to go was enough.

"Sure. I take it you aren't much for Halloween."

Keith rolled his eyes. "It's just an excuse for the candy companies to up their profits."

"Actually," a new voice interjected, "Halloween is based on the ancient feast that started the three-day observance of Allhallowtide, a time of year dedicated to remembering the dead. Traditional festivals seem to have been taken from pagan harvest festivals, particularly the Gaelic festival Samhain."

Keith stares at the owner of the voice. She is short with light brown hair tied back beneath a witch's hat. The rest of her costume looked like something from a historical reenactment. He knows he has seen her around, but only in select classes since she was obviously a few grades behind him. Hunk is by her, which isn't surprising because it seems like wherever Lance is Hunk isn't far behind. 

"Thanks, Pidge," Lance states with a smug grin as if he had won an argument he and Keith were not having.

"Nice witch costume," Keith deadpans.

"I'm an alewife," Pidge announces, jutting her chin up. "The original brewers who the patriarchy turned into witches for being strong, independent women."

"Sure." Keith takes a slow sip of his apple cider, hoping his disinterest will cause them to move on.

It does not.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hunk asks. He is in jeans and a white t-shirt beneath a brown leather flight jacket adorned with various patches that Keith recognized from Top Gun.

Keith shrugs. "It's ok."

Lance scoffs. "Glad you think my family's party is 'okay'. Not Vegas enough for you?"

Keith rolls his eyes. He had lived outside of Las Vegas with his dad before the fire, but of course, no one understands that. He absently gestures across the lavishly decorated room to where Shiro is talking to Mr. Smythe.

"I just usually don't find hanging out with my teachers to be a good time."

"Don't you live with Mr. Shirogane?" Hunk asks.

"More reason a party he's at isn't my idea of a good time."

A grin curls across Lance's face. "Maybe we should take you to the Galra house," he says, voice full of challenge and confidence as if Keith believed in ghosts. "Show you an actual good time."

Pidge's face lit up as Hunk's fell.

"Ooo. Cobwebs,” Keith drawls. “Terrifying."

Shiro is embarrassingly enthused when Keith tells him he's going out with some classmates. It's probably because Keith doesn't mention the breaking and entering part. Really, it's Shiro's fault for not asking.

They pile into Lance's car. Hunk calls shotgun, but Lance insists Keith sits upfront 'to get the full experience'. This earns approving chuckles like there was going to be a splash zone that has Keith just rolling his eyes harder and hoping they know they are overhyping the place. The entire ride Hunk and Pidge are exchanging stories in spooky voices.

"And they say a white cat still guards the house on Halloween night, making sure no one lights the black flame candle," Hunk intones almost directly into Keith's ear.

"Shouldn't it be a black cat?"

"NooOoooo," he responds, raising and lowering his voice in the universal sign of something being spooky.

"Some think that the Galra weren't witches at all, but scientists working beyond our morals and understandings," Pidge picks up. "A lot of science is just magic with an explanation."

"Yeah," Lance agrees without taking his eyes off the dark, twisting road lined by barren trees. Keith admits the drive is unnerving. "Not many science books are bound in human skin, though."

"This all just sounds like another case of demonizing immigrants," Keith mentions. 

Lance laughs. "Maybe, but my parents are immigrants and, again, no books bound in human skin or candles made from the fat of a hanged man. The Galra were also one of the few cases during the witch trials where witchcraft was the secondary charge."

"So there really was a cellar full of bodies?"

Lance nods. "My mom was the museum curator before it got shut down. All of the hocus pocus usually overshadows the facts, but the victims are undisputable. The local judge wrote it was 'such a gruesome display that execution is the only option as only God is capable of trying such atrocities'."

"So the town turned it into a folktale?"

"Don't we do that with all killers?" Hunk asks rhetorically. "Vlad the Impaler becomes Dracula. Werewolves are based on actual murderers and cannibals. Bloody Mary is Queen Mary I, who burned Protestants at the stake."

"Jack the Ripper killed at least five women," Pidge adds.

"And who can say if witchcraft and Satanism weren't their motivation? Or that the stories aren't true?" Lance continues. He turns onto a newly paved road and Keith belatedly realizes Lance had purposefully taken them the back way in an attempt to freak Keith out. "It only takes one story to be true to prove magic exists, right alien boy?"

Keith scoffs, silently vowing to get that smirk off of Lance’s face. Not because it makes heat rise in his cheeks or his heart do a little flip, but because it is annoying. The fact Lance is the one who approached him at the party and invited him out doesn't mean anything. This isn't a bonding moment, just another smug Salemite trying to prove how creepy and supernatural their town is.

A stone cottage comes into view beyond the reach of the headlights. A sign outside states "The Infamous Galra Home" with a "Closed for Renovations" temporarily posted beneath it. Lance pulls into the gravel driveway.

"Um," Hunk says as everyone gets out. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. I mean, how are we even going to get in?"

Lance dangles a key in front of Hunk, snatching it back into his hands with a laugh in his voice. "My mom was the curator, remember? She keeps the key in her office in case anyone needs to get in."

Keith chuckles. "You got some fast fingers."

"This is nothing."

It's too dark to be certain, but Keith swears Lance wiggles his eyebrows. His smile is ever-present and mischievous as he trots over to the door. He hesitates only long enough to make sure everyone is there and that Keith is close enough to hear the creek of the door opening. It's a relatively warm October evening, but the temperature seems to drop as they enter the cottage. As Keith looks around, the dust and cobwebs built up on every surface and in every corner makes him question if they are actually doing any renovations.

Lance flicks on the lights to reveal a huge black cauldron dominating the main room, a book beneath glass on a pedestal to one side of it. Candles line the walls along with various tools and utensils. Jars of dried and pickled ingredients are cluttered on roped-off shelves. It looks like everything has been preserved or replicated other than the counter and scattering of merchandise at the door. 

"I have to admit," Keith concedes as he moves about the room, taking everything in, "this place is pretty creepy."

The click and flash of a camera make Keith flinch despite himself. Pidge laughs at him as she winds the film on a disposable camera. Lance joins in and even Hunk gives a nervous chuckle.

"I want to see if I can get anything on film," she explains before snapping a picture in a different direction. "There is a lot of dust so any orbs will be questionable, but I've heard of some people getting some good ecto-mist shots. There are also some photos of Allura."

"Probably just a stray," Keith grumbles as he moves over to a candle etched with intricate designs. They are hard to make out beneath where the wax has dripped down. As he's trying to make out the scene on the candle, a breath caresses his ear, causing him to spin around in alarm only to see Lance clutching his sides in laughter.

"Guys, get away from that," Hunk pleads. "It's Halloween and a full moon."

"So all we need to raise the souls of the dead is a virgin to light the candle," Lance teases, producing a lighter and flicking it on. Keith knows it's just to try and scare him, but before he can comment a white streak hits Lance, knocking the lighter out of his hand. "Gah! Stupid cat," he calls after the retreating creature as he cradles his hand and mutters, "I don't even qualify."

"Ok, I'm out." Hunk puts his hands up and heads towards the door. "That was Allura telling us to get out and I, for one, listen when ghost cats tell me to leave."

Lance and Pidge exchange uncertain looks. Pidge takes a picture in the direction the white cat had darted off before starting to follow Hunk.

"Are you guys serious?" Keith laughs. He picks up Lance's lighter where it had skittered across the old floorboards. The intensity Lance watches him with feels good like he finally has the upper hand.

"Keith," he speaks slowly, more serious than Keith even thought he was capable of being, "I mean it. We don't mess with the occult. Especially not in Salem."

There is something about the 'in Salem' that gets Keith; like this place is some exception to the rule that ghosts and demons and witches don't exist. The image of being laughed at for believing in aliens plays in his mind, highlighted by Griffin's sneer. He flicks the lighter and enjoys the edge of fear in Lance's eyes.

"What's the matter, Lance? It's all just a bunch of hocus pocus."

With that, Keith lights the candle, because this is ridiculous and he wants to see Lance's face when nothing happens.

Except something does happen. The orange flame goes black the moment it catches the wick and every light bulb shatters, the pops coming in quick succession accompanied by frightened yelps. Every candle inexplicably lights. The logs in the hearth and beneath the cauldron burst into flames. A freezing wind makes the fire dance as it rattles every loose board and window. Everyone ducks for cover as the door slams open and a laughing bellow echoes through the cottage.

A large man looms in the doorway, the firelight casting his features in shadows that shift menacingly as he steps into the cottage. He is followed by two cloaked figures, both much smaller than him with one thin and graceful and the other stout and clumsy. The man's gaze sweeps around the room and Keith covers his mouth to muffle his gasp when he sees a slightly demonic face, sharp edges accented with unnatural ridges. A scar runs down the left side of his face. It is interrupted by a glassy, dead eye and the stern line of his mouth.

"My book," the graceful figure coos as she steps past the man. She pushes her hood down to reveal a delicate face marred with scars that mirror each other on her cheeks. It looks as if chunks of skin had been removed then slowly peeled away. She taps the glass. "Oh, how I missed you my beautiful little book."

"It is good to be home," the large figure rumbles. He does not stop his scan of the room.

"I wonder who lit the candle," the woman muses. 

As she taps on the glass, Keith can see an inhuman yellow eye open to dart around the room. He ineffectively wills his heart to not bound so loudly in his chest.

"That is the question, my dear Honerva."

"Zarkon!" The round figure has waddled into the room, sniffing the air like a hound despite having a nearly flat nose. Dark, pockmarked skin arcs across his cheeks and over his brow. "I smell a good soul."

Keith slips the switchblade out of his pocket. He knows it probably won't do much, but he might at least be enough of a distraction for the others to get away.

"Where, Morvok?"

Across the room, Lance's eyes meet Keith's from where he is pressed into a dark corner. It's a horrible hiding spot, only slightly helped by his all-black costume, but so far luck has kept him from being noticed. He sees the blade and knows what Keith is thinking. It's written in how his expression goes from confusion to disbelief before settling on resolution. He shakes his head and points up, drawing Keith's attention to the sprinklers above them. Keith nods and reluctantly pockets his blade. Lance puts his hand on the hilt of his fake rapier.

Keith slips back into the shadows as Morvok sniffs about the room. He is zeroing in on where Hunk had pulled Pidge when Lance sweeps out, rapier at the ready.

"Out of the night, when the full moon is bright, comes a horseman known as Zorro."

Three pairs of eyes turned incredulously to Lance.

"There's a horse?" Zarkon commented, raising a brow and looking at Honerva who simply shrugs.

Lance is undeterred. He flourishes the rapier, waiting for Keith to be in position. 

"How quaint," Zarkon commented flatly. "My turn."

Purple lightning arcs from Zarkons outstretched fingers, slamming Lance into the wall.

"Lance!" Pidge screams. 

Morvok turns towards her and she immediately smacks him in the face with an iron candlestick. Hunk immediately follows up with a frying pan that knocks Morvok into Honerva. Zarkon raises his hand towards them only to be stopped by a white cat dropping onto him with an angry yowl. It is enough of a distraction for Lance to be freed to stumble to Hunk and Pidge.

Zarkon throws the cat and turns towards the trio.

"You will make fine sacrifices," he growls.

"Hey!" 

Keith stands on the loft overlooking the main room. He holds the lighter up, flicking it on dramatically when the three witches turn to him. They gasp and Honerva murmurs 'he summons fire'.

"Yes, you have angered the guardian spirit of fire! Now face the burning rain of death!"

The sprinkles go off as he puts the flame near the sprinklers. The reaction is immediate as the Galras run for cover. Keith jumps down, fortunately managing to stay on his feet. Hunk and Pidge have already helped Lance out the door and are yelling for him to hurry.

"Great job, Keith," the cat says sarcastically. A feeling of 'this might as well happen' overrides any surprise at a cat talking to him. "Get the book."

He acts without thinking. This is probably a dream, anyway, and Keith is more than ready to wake up. One of the posts holding up the velvet ropes easily smashes the glass.

"My book!" Honerva screeches when she sees Keith grab it.

He sprints for the car, scooping up the cat in his free arm on the way. Lance has already started the car, much to Keith's relief. As soon as Keith closes the door, he slams the car into reverse. Later, Keith will be impressed by Lance's driving; right now there are more important things going on.

"Seat belt, Keith," Allura reminds him as a curve taken a little too quickly causes Keith to grab the handle above the door. Her claws dig into his thigh as she starts to slide and are a better reminder than any pinch that this is not a dream.

"Did that cat just talk!?!" Lance shouted. 

"Eyes on the road," the feline in question chastises, nonplussed by the looks of shock from the back seat. She peeks over Keith's shoulder. Her brilliant blue eyes settle on Hunk and Pidge after a survey of the back window confirms they are not being followed. "Allura Altea, a pleasure to meet you, though I do wish the circumstances were less dire."

"This-" Hunk stampers. "This isn't real. It's too much. I just ate a bad candy apple and there are no talking cats or witches back from the dead or-"

"Oh, it's real." A flash accompanies Pidge's grin as she takes a picture of Allura. "I'm Pidge. This is Hunk and that's Lance. Sounds like you already met Keith."

"Informally," Allura replies before adding, "perhaps fortunately, depending on how things turn out."

"Ok," Lance interjects. He has slowed down now that the cottage is well out of sight and they are approaching a more populated area. "So we can all hear the cat?"

"Allura," she corrects, "and yes. It seems the magic of the Black Flame Candle also allows you to understand me, which does make this quite a bit easier. Now, do any of you know where I can find Coran Hieronymous Smythe?"

"Our history teacher?" Keith balks.

"He might still be at my parent's party." Lance seems to have joined Keith in the thought that this might as well be happening. Keith welcomes him with an exchanged look of solidarity in the form of a barely-there smile.

"Let's hope," Keith adds.

"What does Mr. Smythe have to do with this, anyway?" Hunk asks. He isn't as close to acceptance as anyone else in the car, but he at least seems to be trying.

"He was associate pastor of my father's church and somewhat of his apprentice," Allura explains. Her blue eyes gaze out the window as they got to the more suburban area, watching the trick or treaters that have slowed them down.

"I don't think pastors have apprentices," Pidge points out. 

"Not traditionally, no, but my father was a man of faith and science." Allura's ears flatten for a moment as she spots a trio of children dressed as the Galra. She promptly turns her attention to Pidge when one plays at throwing magic at a little angel in their group. "He believed God had given humanity science and with proper understanding, what is often called miracles or magic was possible. Unfortunately, to every ideal, there is an opposition."

"The Galras," Keith realizes.

"Yes. Zarkon and my father used to be friends, but after his son's death, Zarkon and his family turned to darkness." Allura's voice falls to little more than a whisper. "That is when the murders started."

"Your father was their last victim." Pidge reaches out and Allura steps over Keith so she can be gathered onto Pidge's lap. There is a sense of kinship and vulnerability in the gesture that has Keith looking away.

"So Mr. Smythe is over 300 years old and was the apprentice of a man so far ahead of his time that he was basically magic," Lance surmises. "Cool. Cool cool cool cool."

Something catches Keith's eye. A hulking figure with glowing eyes. He tells himself it is just a Halloween direction, but the way the eyes seem to follow him says otherwise. They turn a corner and he sees another figure. Honerva. He loses her behind a tree. The book burns where it is resting on his feet and he kicks it as far forward as far away as he can. He knows it's single eye is glaring at him.

"They're tracking the book," Keith hisses just in case the Galras can hear him through the book.

He looks in the rearview mirror and spots Morvok trying to watch them from a corner while being harassed by trick or treaters on the cusp of being too old to be out. The short Galra tries to ignore them for all of a minute before turning to snarl something back. They laugh and continue to be cruel kids until Morvok grabs one of their bags and throws it across the street, ranting about something that Keith can't hear. The preteens seem to decide the crazy man isn't worth their torment and leave.

Lance passes by the road Keith remembers leading to his house. A quick look shows how his jaw is working and he is adjusting the grip on the steering wheel. Keith is probably the only one who can see it and he can guess what it means.

He takes a breath and gathers his thoughts.

"We can't lead them back to the party," he decides, catching how Lance's eyes flick to him with unsaid thanks. "We need to split up. You guys get Mr. Smythe and Lance and I will take the book."

"That's only half a plan," Pidge points out.

Lance stops the car for some pedestrians and everyone double-checks that their doors are locked. He murmurs something in Spanish that sounds like a prayer until the car is moving again.

"Those that derive their power from evil cannot set foot on hallowed ground. A graveyard would work, though you may be exposed," Allura says after a moment. Her tail flicks as she thinks.

"If we go to a church, though, they might have some questions," Lance counters. "Like why we have a book bound in human skin."

"Old Burial Hill," Pidge offers. "There is some tree cover and we can meet at the gazebo by Fisherman's Monument."

Lance nods. He reaches past Keith into the glove box and pulls out a rosary made with a tarnished silver crucifix on a strand of swirled blue beads. He hands it back without taking his eyes off the road.

"Abuelita insisted I keep that in my car," he explains as Hunk takes it. "Take it for protection."

"Dude, will this even work in the hands of a Muslim and a Jew?"

Lance shrugs. "Can't hurt, can it? Keith and I don't need it: he has a knife."

The lopsided grin he gives Keith as he pulls over makes Keith's heart flip. Through all of this, Lance hasn't removed his mask and his eyes are ridiculously blue framed in black.

"Why does Keith have a knife!?!" Hunk exclaims.

"Priorities, Hunk."

After a quick look around, Pidge scoops Allura up and ducks out of the car. With a last concerned look, Hunk follows. Something shifts in Lance when they leave. He still vibrates with energy, but it shifts from flight to fight as they head towards the cemetery.

"So why do you have a knife?" he asks even as his eyes flick to the mirrors in between scanning the road in front of him. There is suddenly no doubt in Keith's mind that Lance would cover him if things go bad.

It feels like opening up just a crack is the least he can do, especially since this is all his fault.

"It was my mother's," he explains. "She gave it to me before she was deployed. Operation Desert Storm. I haven't," he swallows thickly, "I haven't seen her since."

"Damn," Lance breathes. "That's a good reason to have a knife."

Lance parks by a stone wall. An old sign by the path reads 'Please respect our cemeteries' in black with 'no dogs' underneath. As Keith approaches the path leading up the hill, he is overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding. He stops, holding the book under one arm as he stares into the shadows lurking in the cemetery.

"Come to me," a voice softly calls behind him. Keith turns to face Honerva, feeling in his soul that she is speaking to him. "Come to me and I can stop the hurt. I see the hole those you loved inflicted by leaving you. It is the same hole my son left. Bring me the book so I may heal it for you."

Keith takes a step forward. It sounds like a much better offer than the scary graveyard. The hole left by his mother's disappearance and father's death could be healed. He wouldn't hurt anymore.

"Nope." Lance literally throws Keith over his shoulder and marches into the cemetery. "Sorry, man, but we're just going to have to heal those holes naturally."

He doesn't put Keith down until they are at the stairs. The feeling of foreboding is gone. A glance at the book shows that the eye is closed. Whatever malignant spirit had been trying to influence him was dormant now that they were on hallowed ground. It's not until they are up the hill, sitting in the gazebo that Keith realizes that he is shaking.

"Witches, man," Lance says as he sits beside Keith. He notices Keith's arms wrapped around himself and wordlessly takes his cape off to drape over Keith's shoulders. "You ok?"

Keith crumbles in on himself. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Liar." Lance playfully bumps Keith's shoulder with his own. 

They sit in silence, listening for any cackle or strange gust of wind or Keith doesn't know what.

"You know," Lance starts after the adrenaline has ebbed out of their systems, "if you let go of the tough guy act you might actually like it here."

"In this gazebo or…"

"In Salem. Maybe in this gazebo. I don't know. We should come here when we aren't in hiding from undead witches and warlocks or demons or whatever and decide then."

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'll bring a picnic."

Keith raises an eyebrow. He wonders if Lance is implying what Keith thinks he's implying. Since Lance is known pretty well at school as a flirt, Keith has his doubts.

"You know I'm gay, right? The entire school knows and even just being my friend will put your reputation at risk, especially if you take me on a picnic."

Lance's grin is almost teasing in direct defiance of their situation. "My reputation for what? Having impeccable tastes? Being seen with you would pretty much secure that as far as I'm concerned."

Keith's mouth is dry. That was either incredibly smooth or incredibly cruel. Just another way to mess with Keith just like taking him on the back roads or teasing him at the Galra Cottage. It would probably be hilarious to Lance and all of his straight friends.

Hiding from witches seemed like very poor timing for such a joke, though.

"So was that back at the party and at the Galra Cottage just how you flirt?"

"With guys," Lance responds so simply that it catches Keith off guard. "I mean, it's never worked, but I can't really use any of my pick-up lines on them."

"And what if you could?"

For a moment there were no Galra probably pacing the perimeter of the cemetery or skin bound book sitting beside them. It was just the full moon and the view of the pond and the crisp autumn air rustling the leaves. Keith's heart pounded in his chest as Lance scoots close enough that their fingers touch. His eyes drift to Keith's lips before flicking back up.

"Are you an alien?" he starts with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Because you are out of this world."

Keith breaks into laughter. Any lingering chill from the book's influence is chased away by the sound as Lance grins at him. His eyes are soft and fond and ease Keith's amusement into something that feels like a mug of hot chocolate on a cold day. For a moment they just gaze into each other's eyes. Keith thinks if they weren't surrounded by gravestone he might be tempted to lean forward and see if Lance met him halfway.

"Does that ever work?"

Lance shakes his head. "Nah, but pick up lines aren't supposed to work. They're just a fun way to start a conversation and let the other person know you are interested."

"But you can't do that with guys, because you might get punched."

"Because I might get punched," Lance agrees with a chuckle and a nod. "Or, you know, all of the other things."

"So you are legitimately asking me out?"

"Yep."

"All the other things and all?"

"Seems so."

Before Keith can answer, he hears Shiro calling his name. For a moment he wonders if it is a trick. Shiro is there, though, jogging up the stairs in his ridiculous vampire costume. Keith doesn't know where he had gotten the idea that vampires had a white streak in their hair.

"Keith!" Shiro calls. "Keith, are you ok?"

"Better if you had waited five minutes," Keith mutters. He knows Lance heard him by his low chuckle. He's not sure of what would have happened, but makes a mental note to continue whatever it was later. The cape falls away from his shoulders as he gets up to meet Shiro.

"Pidge and Hunk showed up saying Coran needed to come to the graveyard with them because you were in trouble. Then they left before anyone would tell me anything."

"Yeah, I lit a candle that resurrected some evil witches and stole their book so they are trying to hunt us down. The talking cat said we would be safe here, though." Keith shrugs then looks back at Lance. "Oh, and I might have a date."

Lance waves. "Hi, Mr. Shirogane."

Shiro is appropriately dumbstruck. He slowly raises a hand to wave back at Lance.

"Hi, Lance." He pulls Keith away from the gazebo, far enough that Lance cannot hear when he lowers his voice and asks, "Keith, have you been doing drugs?"

"What? NO!"

"Ok." Shiro takes a deep breath. "Ok. This is- this is fine. As long as you feel safe we can work through this." He mutters to himself, "The grief books did not cover this."

Keith rolls his eyes. It has been long enough since his father's death that Keith is pretty sure he's already completed the stages of grief. Shiro doesn't believe him. Or maybe Shiro feels guilty that his cousin had to rattle around the foster care system while he was overseas.

He realizes too late that stepping out of cover was a mistake. It isn't until Shiro is struck by the same purple lightning that had hit Lance. Keith follows it to Zarkon floating above the graveyard holding a broom. Honerva is behind him astride her own broom and Morvok is a little further back struggling with a vacuum as if it was an unbroken horse trying to throw him.

It would be ridiculous if Shiro's scream of pain wasn't currently ringing through the cemetery.

"The book for his life," Zarkon booms.

A rock hits Zarkon in the head, breaking his focus and releasing Shiro. Keith grabs him as he staggers forward then helps him limp back to the cover of the gazebo. They pass Lance, who is readying another rock. He tosses and catches it a few times to judge the weight before hurling his improvised weapon. He hits his target, though not with the accuracy of his first throw.

Zarkon seems more annoyed than injured. 

"I no longer find you amusing."

Zarkon charges and action comes before thought as Keith pulls out his mother's blade. A quick slash draws blood that sizzles and hisses as it hits the ground. Something like instinct takes over from there. Keith ducks beneath a swing, scooping up a handful of dirt as he does to fling into Zarkon’s eyes. Another slash. He barely registers that the blade is glowing softly in his hand.

"Seems you have a little magic of your own," Zarkon taunts, his voice darkly amused. "With the book and our teachings, you could be something truly great."

"I'll pass." 

Keith dodges back under the cover of the gazebo, which forces Zarkon to back away for fear of touching the hallowed ground. Energy crackles around Zarkon, making him a thunder cloud as the power builds up. He releases it with a loud crack that rattles bones. Lighting arcs towards the gazebo, aiming to destroy it along with those who were inside. As soon as it contacts the supports, however, it dissipates and fizzles out.

"Well, good thing I renewed the protection spell on that," a voice that Keith has heard drone on about ancient wars and treaties and cultures says. He turns to see Coran walking casually up the hill to them. He's dressed like he is going on safari, which makes his leather satchel completely inconspicuous until he reaches into it. "Never know when someone is going to need shelter from evil spirits."

Allura trots into the gazebo behind him, leaping onto the railing and watching with interest as Coran rolls a tool kit out onto one of the memorial benches. It is lined with various vials, herb sachets, crystals, and pendants. At least five different religions and spiritualities are represented.

“Where are Hunk and Pidge?” Lance asks. There is an edge of panic in his voice as he looks around for his friends.

“We dropped them off at Pidge’s house,” Allura answers. She sees the fear on Lance’s face and reassuringly adds, “They will be alright. It seems your abuelita’s rosary is warded against evil.”

“All objects lent power have power,” Coran explains as he pulls a box of salt out of his satchel. “Some just have more power than others depending on age and intent. It is why crystals are so finicky.” He holds up a chunk of amethyst to inspect before finding it satisfactory and slipping it into his breast pocket.

“Can someone please explain anything to me?” Shiro interjects from where he is watching the Galras in the air warily. His brow is creased as he tries to reconcile what he is seeing with the reality he knows. 

“Keith lit a candle that resurrected evil witches who want that book,” Coran pointed at where the book was lying dormant, “so that they can do the ritual that will allow the magic of the Black Flame candle to last beyond sunrise.”

“I told you,” Keith can’t help but add.

Shiro continues to process as Coran takes the salt and puts a line across the opening of the gazebo. He sets it aside so he can pull out a piece of chalk that he uses to draw unrecognizable symbols around the book.

“Fortunately for you lot, I have been preparing for this for three hundred years,” he says as he continues his preparations. “And unlike Zarkon, I have not limited myself to one school of magic, as it were. So while I may not have the raw talent of my predecessor, I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Lance surveys the tools and slowly Keith gravitates towards him. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thanks. For making sure I didn’t go over to the dark side or whatever. That book- it was like it was making what it wanted into what I wanted.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for fighting a demon witch for me,” Lance responds with that same fond look that makes a pleasant warmth settle in Keith’s chest. “We make a good team.”

They gaze at each other before Keith has to look away because he wants to kiss Lance but now is not the time.

“What did he mean that I have a little magic in me?” Keith asks out of curiosity as much as the distraction.

“Some people are inherently attuned to the energy that flows through all living things, which allows for most of what we humans would call magic,” Coran answers. He sounds similar to how he does giving lectures in class. “Allura and her father, Alfor, are prime examples of extreme sensitivity. For centuries these people have been highly regarded. Druids, shamans, wizards, psychics- all of those types were attuned in one way or another. Like art, however, each utilized it according to their own personal experiences and culture. During the Dark Ages this attunement atrophied in much of Western Civilization for various reasons.”

“So my father wasn’t discovering anything new,” Allura notes, “he was rediscovering something that had been lost.”

Coran nods. He has set out some incense that gives off wisps of smoke that twist into the night air. Keith notices that the more he does, the farther away the Galra retreat.

“He was rewriting the books from the Library of Alexandria without having known it ever existed.”

“What do they want?” Shiro asks, having finally joined everyone else in the ‘this might as well be happening’ mindset. “Other than the book.”

“Power,” Coran answers as he pinches some herbs to delicately sniff. His nose scrunches and he tosses them over his shoulder. “Like many, they started with good intentions. Then Zarkon and Honerva’s son, Lotor, fell ill and their efforts to heal him drove them to madness. Morvok was just their farmhand, but a coven needs three and he was too weak-willed to resist."

"Their attempts to heal Lotor became torture," Allura adds, voice becoming quiet and stricken by grief. "Transplants and transfusions without medical knowledge. Dissecting travelers or those who would not be missed while they still breathed. Rumors, but Lotor and I were close. I went to see him and they cursed me knowing my father would be able to tell if I died. Lotor died soon after."

"Attempts to heal became attempts to resurrect," Coran picked up, "which led to darker and darker things. Alfor, Allura's father, went to stop them. Not before making it so that I would not age until they were defeated, however, so that I would be able to continue his work should he fail. As the legend correctly says, the disappearance of a prominent pastor is what led the rumors to finally be investigated and the Galras were executed shortly after."

It takes a moment for Shiro to process this information. Lance, meanwhile, has taken to comforting Allura by offering his hand as he would any cat. She bumps her head against it and accepts when he pets her fur. Keith can't imagine how lonely being a cat for several centuries has been for her.

"So you are over three hundred years old." Shiro finally observes.

"I told you I have several lifetime's worth of stories to tell."

Silence falls as Coran works and everyone waits. Shiro falls into his military training, monitoring the threat and remaining at the ready. With the protection spell on the gazebo there isn't much Galra and his cohorts can do other than watch in hopes of spotting an opening. It is a standoff. Oddly boring, considering.

Lance sits on the ground between the unused memorial benches with his back against the railing as he waits. Keith joins him and they watch Coran set up whatever spell or ritual he is planning to use. A single line on a rune is redone at least four times and Keith isn't too surprised magic went by the wayside if it is this finicky.

"Coran said the magic of the Black Flame Candle wouldn't last beyond sunrise, right?" Lance asks in a low whisper.

"That's what it sounded like," Keith responds just as quietly.

"So couldn't we just wait until then?"

"How should I know?"

Lance makes a sound that might be 'I don't know' without any constants. His eyes turned to the east where the sun would rise as if he could somehow calculate the hours until daybreak. Keith can't help but lean against him just enough so he can feel Lance's warmth against his arm. It's grounding because even if this is all some sort of delusion he is at least sharing it with someone.

"My parents aren't expecting me back tonight," Lance randomly comments they have sat silently for a while. "Want to come with me to Pidge's? I'd suggest we just go grab a pizza, but she and Hunk will never forgive me if I don't go tell them everything that happened."

Keith moves back to study Lance. "How are you making this sound so normal?"

Slim fingers tap Lance chin as he ponders the question. "Compartmentalization," he finally decides. "Aren't you doing the same thing?"

"I guess," Keith huffs, "but I'm not asking you out or anything like that."

"Maybe you should."

"Didn't you already ask me out?"

"Yeah," Lance's smile is dazzling, "but I technically never got an answer, alien boy."

Keith shakes his head.

“Saturday,” he responds. “You can show me what’s to like about Salem.”

“Sounds like a date.”

Keith feels warm and for a moment he thinks it’s just happiness. The warmth spreads, though, and intensifies until he has to take off his cardigan. It feels like something is buzzing through his veins; like a limb that is waking up except that it is his entire body. He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms over his head and pulling his knees to his chest as if that would provide any relief.

“Keith?” Lance asks. Worry quickly builds in his voice and his hand is on Keith’s back as he becomes more panicked. “Keith, are you ok?”

Shiro is there in an instant. It only takes a moment of assessing the situation before he is turning to Coran.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

“Sorry,” Coran replies quickly with his hands up. “Should have warned you. I momentarily weakened the magic in the area. I imagine he is just reacting to it all coming back at once.”

Allura’s head tilts to the side as she considers Coran. “Why would you- Coran! You are a genius! Without magic, the Galra would not be able to sustain their flight.”

Keith forces himself to look up. Sure enough, he can see the Galra getting themselves to their feet. Morvok is hopping from foot to foot as if he’s barefoot on hot sand. All three have cracks spidering up their bodies with bits of clothing and flesh flaking away into ashes. Morvok goes first as the cracks widen and in a white-hot flash, he is gone.

Zarkon stalks forward as Honerva reaches out. Her lips move. Whatever she is trying to do isn’t enough, though. She is gone by the time Zarkon is almost to the gazebo.

“You insolent fool!” He hurls lightning and it cracks into a support beam. “You took out your own shield! I may go down, but I am taking you all with me!”

Another bolt is thrown at them. Even if they knew it was coming, there was no way to avoid it in the small space of the gazebo. All Keith could do was try to overcome the pins and needles static of his nerves to push Lance behind him. He was vaguely aware of Shiro covering them as Coran shouts out something that Keith can’t understand. Maybe he just isn't able to make it out over the pounding in his head.

A breath passes. Then another. A third and Keith dares to look.

The lightning is being absorbed by a figure with a white dress that billows around her slender frame. Her white hair cascades down her back in stark contrast to her dark skin that shimmers with an ethereal radiance. Her outstretched hand has stopped the bolt.

A pure white cat lies crumpled at her feet.

“Allura,” Lance murmurs from behind Keith in reverent realization.

“No more,” she commands. Her hand closes and the lightning fizzles out as if it had been coming from her the entire time.

Zarkon attempts another attack, but it only sparks in his hand. Still, however, he moves forward. He reaches for Allura’s throat even as she stares him down. If his last wish was to be feared, he dies with it unfulfilled. 

The air feels different as the last ashes of Zarkon blow away in a stray autumn breeze and Allura turns to them. Everything about her is breathtaking. In the light of the full moon, she looks like an angel.

Keith stands as the last of the fuzziness recedes. He steps forward, everything he had ever believed completely shattered. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is connecting this proof of an afterlife with his father’s death. Mostly, however, he is enthralled by the ghost before him.

“Thank you, Keith," Allura says as he approaches her. “I have been a cat for far too long. I have been alive for far too long...” She looks over at Coran. The corner of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles at her.

“It will be a pleasure to be able to age gracefully,” he gently assures her unsaid worry.

The concern on her face softens. She moves to put her arms around him and he reciprocates, tears welling in his eyes. He kisses her hair.

"Tell your father thank you," he tells her. "The years he gave me have given me more than I could have ever imagined. My only regret is that I was unable to care for you as he would have wanted."

"You would have turned me into a fat, lazy house cat," she chuckles, "and not have had the power to free me. You have done everything my father wished and more."

"Allura!" A voice suddenly calls from not too far off. "Allura, is that you?"

Allura lets Coran go to turn towards the voice, gasping softly when she sees the source. A tall man stands at the edge of the trees under the glow of the full moon.

"It is Lotor," she tells them. There is a touch of wonder in her voice as she looks at her long lost friend. She turns back to the group and tells them more by how her smile has grown than words ever could.

"Guess it's time for you to go," Lance says.

"Yes," she replies. Her smile gives way to an almost nervous chuckle as she steps up to Lance. She takes his hand and places a delicate kiss on his cheek. "Will you tell Hunk and Pidge goodbye for me?"

"Of course."

She looks to Shiro as she lets go of Lance’s hand.

"Take care of them," she asks. Her eyes turn to Coran for a moment before she adds, "All of them."

"I will," Shiro promises.

"Allura," Lotor calls again. His smile mirrors hers. "Where have you been? Your father and I have been waiting ages for you."

With a final glance back, Allura runs to him. He offers her an arm that she happily loops her hands around. Her melodic voice carries to the gazebo as the pair walk into the trees.

"I am sorry for keeping you, but I had to wait three hundred years for a set of truly ridiculous circumstances to align."

Keith stares after where the ghosts have vanished for possibly far too long. In the back of his mind he hears 'It only takes one story to be true to prove magic exists'. Magic he was apparently sensitive to. It wasn't even midnight and his entire world has been upended.

A hand slips into his with a comforting squeeze and Lance is there. A gentle tug has him following down the path that leads out of the cemetery. They stop at Lance's car. Shiro's and Coran's cars are parked nearby, but both men have stayed to clean up with the sense that the two students needed a moment. Lance leans against the car and easily slots Keith against him.

"So," he says, "pizza?"

Keith stares at him. His hands raise up on their own to push Lance's mask back. He ignores how Lance's hair is a mess as he leans in, the tension easing away when Lance meets him halfway. Even if it is not a long kiss, it is everything Keith needs to calm his racing mind.

Magic was real, but so was Lance. And right now Lance is here. Nothing else seems to be very important beyond that.

"Is that a yes?" Lance prompts.

"What about Hunk and Pidge?"

"We'll pick it up on the way over."

Lance kisses him again and Keith thinks that maybe Salem, Massachusetts isn't so bad.

He'll wait until next year to make a decision about Salem, Massachusetts on Halloween.


End file.
